Battlefield Europe
by RedShocktrooper
Summary: As the war in Germany brews, the War in the Empire is beginning. Jaeger's men, soldiers of the Empire, face off against Soviet defenders early in the war, as two sides used to bitter cold duke out in snow-covered wastelands.


**Battlefield Europe: Eastern Front**

**By RedShocktrooper**

_Author's Note: This exists merely because I feel I didn't give enough spotlight to the war between the EEIA and USSR. It got only enough mentions to imply there was a war, and we saw Selvaria get offed unceremoniously. (Technical note: "**BREAK**" is used in place of my dash lines, since FF seems not to like lines made of asterisks, dash lines and underscores.  
_

**Imperial-Soviet Boarder, Fhirald, 10th December, 1939**

As part of an agreement between the EEIA and German armies, the Empire would declare war and invade the Soviet Union before the then-lesser Axis power. The idea was to draw large amounts of the Red Army northward, letting the Nazis push through the south with vastly less resistance. At least until Gallia and Poland fell, there was no worry of fuel shortages, and they could probably seize petrol sources from the Soviets.

Jaeger, while he didn't like the prospect of being part of one of the biggest ruses he could remember, potentially sacrificing an entire army simply to draw a less advanced, smaller defensive enemy northward. While the idea itself was good, and much of the Imperial military was quite well adjusted to the cold, due to controlling much of the Scandinavian lands and what we, the readers would call 'Finland', the tanks and soldiers had put up with many winters before this one, some of them vastly colder than what Siberia had to offer.

From atop the most powerful regular tank Imperial factories could offer, he could see land outstretched before him. While the dark blood red of his own machine made it fairly obvious given the white surroundings, many other vehicles around him had similar coloration, and some of them had almost as much firepower – and in many cases, more protection – when compared to the Lupus.

This was a battle he felt was winnable. While the Soviet Union stretched for thousands of miles before him, as far as the eyes of his soldiers around him could see, the intelligence they had was that the largest gun a Soviet tank mounted was 76.2mm, while their own tanks mounted 122mm – and in some cases, larger. An Imperial tank had much more armor protection and mobility than its Russian counterpart, as well. He nearly felt a degree of sorrow for the hapless defenders – he knew how they would feel, even if it was much longer ago than now.

Movements in the far distance – judging from his height, little more than fifty miles away. While he could hardly tell what exactly was occurring, it seemed as though the Soviets knew they where coming – they expected the coming onslaught, probably having preparations since Lenin took the Union out of the EEIA in the 1920s.

Orders worked their way down the chain of command, to Jaeger's ears. It was a simple order: advance into Russia, and destroy any resistance they found. The mere simplicity of the order meant he'd have little trouble actually performing it, at least for the time being. He had already set his eyes on a goal for now: Kem, on the westernmost part of the White Sea, was his target for now.

And he gave his own order - "Move out!" and they moved out without little worry, Panzer 1921 Light Tanks and 1933 Mediums spearheading, using their mobility to rush ahead and soften up the enemy for the larger, more powerful Pz. 1938 Heavy Tank.

Trucks and transports, with the trademark red lances of the empire protruding from uncovered beds and open tops, rushed forward with the light and medium tanks. By all means, the vehicles could easily outrun the heavier ones, but a softskin truck, no matter what propaganda may say, would never be able to stand against a T-35 and win. Heavier vehicles stood a greater chance – even a few light tanks could take on the monster, at least on paper. Of course, several things happened on paper that didn't actually happen, and the inverse was as true as the original statement. Such things had names – Murphy's Law, the old idiom of plans never surviving contact with the enemy, et cetra. To be safe, Medium tanks, which he personally figured could stand up to the supposedly heavier Soviet vehicles, would engage T-35's while the Lights held back – no use expending your more mobile units fighting monsters, after all.

By now, the force had grown considerably closer to the one the Soviets had set up – there was no surprising them, at least now, for they saw it coming, and where prepared as best they could. Small foxholes had been dug, and the occasional Maxim could be seen protruding, as did an antitank rifle here and there, and one or two 47mm's, or so he could gather, on the basis of that was what he would put up, and the Russians, in spite of the purges, were no idiots. Well... not _overly _so.

**BREAK**

The Imperial machines drew closer and closer to their positions, and they hid behind anti-tank guns and in holes in the earth. The bitter cold was combated with the thick clothing they wore, but the tanks drawing into firing range seemed unaffected by the cold.

A cannon round tore past them, striking the front of a sandbag wall, behind which hid a Maxim. The dense material soaked up much of the hit, but the sheer force knocked the gun backwards from its tripod. A second round struck, cleaning out a second hole containing an PTRD rifle and regular soldiers armed with Nagants, and a third round struck a 47mm gun, reducing it to a mangled wreck.

By now, the enemy units had closed in to the range of the Russian antitank weapons, and fire broke out accordingly. 47mm cannons cut loose, far more than Jaeger originally thought, and Light Tanks began to take fire, and many of them began to reverse to let the heavier Medium tanks take out the guns.

Rounds where traded on both sides, as a Russian tank appeared, a T-28, and opened up on its counterparts from well over 700 meters away, forcing the Imperial attackers to choose between the guns only 400m in the distance, and the machine grinding towards them. Two more tanks, smaller than the multiturret giant, held their fire until they could close in. Prompt destruction precluded their returning fire, and a single medium tank moved to attack the larger machine.

PTRD fire began to weather away at the armor the forwardmost Light Tanks had, the heavy infantry weapons simply chipping at the steel for now, though rounds sometimes broke open the hard shell, and a machine would grind to a halt when the fragments struck a cremmember.

Now came the infantry, as the Maxims began to fire. Some came on foot, others where fortunate enough to have a halftrack to hid in. ZM Kar's and Nagants began to fire on one another, and infantrymen on both sides took hits. The Soviets could easily see they were outnumbered, as the halftracks quickly rushed forward, taking advantage of the big guns being distracted by the tanks. Some some of the carriers would take hits from the more opportunistic antitank riflemen, and they would grind to a halt after getting their engine shot out when they closed in.

Shocktroopers began to swarm the positions, simply overwhelming the Maxims with submachine guns only 30 to 40m away, and Scouts out at the 300m mark keeping their Russian counterparts from getting a shot out. Suits of armor began to hop down into the foxholes, and turned them on their former owners.

One man, dressed in a red version, held one of the largest weapons then fielded. He had thicker armor, simply shrugging off the hailstorm of gunfire coming from the Russians like spitballs, and he simply terrified the enemy infantry, some of them pouring PPD and DP fire onto him exclusively. A godlike aura rallied his comrades, and he fired a gun much larger and more powerful than his fellow shocktroops. A full power machine gun, fired as though it where a simple ZM MP 1, tore open the fairly unprotected Soviet soldiers, a magazine of rifle ammunition emptied into multiple enemies.

Over the course of the next hour, this man annihilated enemy after enemy, hardly taking good hits and getting back up when he was knocked down, if by grenade or by a near miss with a cannon. Panicked men fighting for their motherland singled him out for a storm of ammunition, but even this did not deter him, until they eventually began to give up on him, taking on the far more vulnerable regulars. This did not prevent his weapon from firing on them, and with the arrival of the heavier tanks, there was few options left. Many of them threw down their weapons, and others hopped over their foxholes to run away from the unstoppable enemy before them.

This was a minor victory in the face of many that would claim Russia for the Empire once again.

The invincible man let the survivors go – the story of a soldier who could not die would undoubtedly make the Soviets tremble in fear. He watched the long white uniforms grow more distant, and nodded to himself as the finally disappeared.

"Ty!" a name was shouted out.

"Oh, hell no..."

A smaller shocktrooper, dressed in much smaller red armor, looked up at the larger one. "You made it! Thank the Valkyrur, what would I have told mom? Her little Tyler got offed by the Russians on the first day?"

"Well, this _is_ war, not some game we used to play."

"True... true..."

"And did you see me? Do you see any holes in my armor?"

"No..."

"There you go!"

The younger one took his helmet off. "Yeah, well, charging into the face of danger seems... I don't know, _dangerous_."

"As I said, I hardly felt any of that stuff."

"Ty..."

"Shut up, Dierk."

The smaller one shrugged, and walked away. Ty watched his younger brother grow smaller, and readjusted the Ruhm in his hands. Such a gun would normally be used to cut down enemies from a dug in position, but he, the seemingly immortal Ty, had the strength to not only have the thick armor they had to design for him, but also the powerful GPMG. The damage he'd caused made a smirk form behind that metal mask, as the trucks advanced forward again.

"Alright, everyone, keep an eye out for traps," he shouted. "They can't kill me, but you're another story!"

**END CHAPTER 1**

**I can't help but think Ty is a bit of a Stu... but then again, how the _fuck_ else am I going to explain him coming back every time you "off" him? I've basically turned him into an Imperial Octoheavy with no medics.**

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